Art via Evan Solano
Harley Geffner still wants to know if Project T-Pain is 03 Greedo’s best album?
Mark Lux, hailing from the Bellflower neighborhood in South LA has a real function starter on his hands here. “On Point” is clean, confident, and bouncy. The hook feels like a repetitive tic you can’t get out of your head, you know, the type where you’re repeating it during the verse waiting for it to smack again. It’s a West Coast party banger, simple as that, and the video brings you right into the mix with the party planning and some signature Cali dance.
One thing I really admire about Charlotte, NC’s MAVI is that he so deftly navigates the intersection between confidence and fragility. It’s one that we all navigate as we work our way through the world, and it’s a real balancing act. Lean too far in either direction and there’s a feedback loop that sends you back the other way. It’s a seesaw that never stops, and there’s Y and Z and infinite other axes that all play into this careful emotional dance.
MAVI’s growth towards the centering of his self, and looking for the personal balance that works best for him, is apparent through his discography. His last album, shadowbox, was dark and surrealist in a way that removed him, to some degree, from the circumstances that created those feelings. It felt like he was stepping outside of himself and watching it all crumble under the weight of expectation, familial and societal pressure, and his own psychic burden of search for purpose.
His latest, The Pilot, is steadier as he finds his footing from the years lost in that darkness. He’s at a healthier place now, navigating his grief, responsibility, and sobriety with the pressure that comes from being someone people rely on. It’s not a neat process, and on album standout “31 Days,” he even admits that there’s a holiness he sees in brokenness. That doesn’t mean inflicting pain for pain’s sake, but it’s part of the natural process of healing and re-balancing that he’s currently on.
In a recent interview with Andre Gee for Rolling Stone, he spoke about loving the feeling of being bad at something, in reference to taking piano lessons. Seeking out the discomfort of starting over, of re-orienting the self, he claimed, was humbling in a way that was necessary. You can’t learn ballet without expecting your feet to bleed, as he put it. He went through the darkness, examined, and fell apart inside it. The Pilot, and “31 Days” specifically, is him showing himself that he doesn’t need to shed or outgrow that darkness, but carry it with him confidently, and in a way that inspires the next phases of his life.
Not all that dissimilar from the questions MAVI is dissecting on his album, Dave, one of the UK’s preeminent rappers, spends his whole album in serious self-interrogation. All throughout The Boy Who Played The Harp, he reflects on the contradictions in his own mind as he gains acclaim and leaves behind the life that made him into who he is. Except on “Chapter 16,” a reference to the ascension of the biblical figure of David, he pauses that self-interrogation long enough for someone he actually trusts to talk back. He looked up to and modeled his own game off Kano, an OG from East Ham, London, and here they are, face to face on the 52nd floor of a high-end restaurant talking shop.
Dave asks Kano for guidance with questions like “How’d you do it? Do you have regrets?” and Dave responds with a flurry of advice on navigating stardom (“keep a piece for yourself when you’re selling you”), relationships, and legacy. Kano bounces questions right back at Dave, showing that the best mentors should always look to learn from their students as well. James Blunt’s sullen, but hopeful-leaning keys fade in and out so it revolves between song and conversation. The whole thing is a warm and honest exchange. There’s a cheeky tug-of-war at the end over the check where Kano jokingly tries to hold on before sliding it across the table with a wry smile, while Dave accepts it, trying not to look too eager to treat his mentor. It’s the kind of symbolism that would feel heavy handed if it didn’t land so naturally here. Bonus points for the studio footage in the outro.
One of my favorite rap techniques is when someone incorporates a sample’s vocalist into their raps to let the original artist speak for them. Here, DW Flame lets Al Green tell you how Long Beach, California brought him “Love and Happiness,” in the hook. It’s a sweet song about what it’s like growing up out here, with Flame explaining how there was no internet and they had no choice but to be outside. They’d smoke to “I Got 5 On It,” the chilli cheese from Louie’s was reliably fire, Suga Free was the soundtrack to their rides to the valley, and his mom was yelling at Derek Fisher on TV.
Ray Vaughn, of TDE, does much of the same, walking us through his life as a kid and how Snoop and the Eastsiderz made everyone in the neighborhood want to be rappers. Together, they turn the track into a time capsule of two kids from different corners of the same city remembering the sights, sounds, and small joys of their childhoods. Long Beach raised them right, and the track serves as a thank you note to the city.
By all measures, Nino Paid is still new to the game, but it’s cool that he’s already influencing other rappers. Strong take on the style here from Maryland rapper HavinMotion with a fun beat, but not as incisive of a pen as the original stylist. I’d love to see continued progression on Nino’s style, as it felt wholly unique when he first came on the scene, and there are more layers to open up around it if the right rappers start giving it a go.
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